


Sunburst

by carafin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Coming of Age, Ensemble Cast, Gen, M/M, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, there is like 6 percent kagehina squished at the end don't be misled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carafin/pseuds/carafin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It</i> comes without warning: for a moment Hinata’s heart seizes up almost unendurably, realisation hitting him like a tonne of bricks as he thinks with startling clarity, <i>we will never be here again.</i></p><p>Or, </p><p>Karasuno's volleyball team through the eyes of Hinata. Genfic, character studies. Slight Kagehina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunburst

**Author's Note:**

> This is vaguely in chronological order, and spans almost the entirety of Hinata's volleyball career in Karasuno.

**#1**

It is almost dusk when they file out of the bus sans their usual cheer, each of them utterly exhausted and defeated, their loss against Seijou still stinging sharply at the back of their minds. Hinata waits till everyone has made their way and stands up from his seat, only for his water bottle to plop out of his bag with a hollow ‘thunk’, before rolling to Kageyama who is walking ahead. Kageyama grunts, bends down, and passes the bottle back to Hinata wordlessly, then turns and makes his way down the bus. Everything about their exchange is muted, and it just makes things worse because Hinata knows that on any other day Kageyama would have made a snide remark regarding Hinata’s lack of coordination and then tossed it back to him with excessive and unneeded vigour.

It really isn’t Hinata’s day, because he fumbles again when he makes his way down the bus, and almost falls flat onto the ground if not for Daichi who has situated himself next to the door of the bus. Daichi reaches out to grab Hinata’s arm with surprising steadiness and strength, and then slowly lets his grip go as Hinata scrambles back onto his foot and hops onto the dusty asphalt without any further hitches.

The bus drives makes a deep guttural voice and drives away, leaving dust motes dancing in the air around them.

‘Thanks, Daichi,’ Hinata murmurs subduedly, eyes averted to the floor, but he barely brushes past Daichi before the other boy reaches out and places a hand on his shoulders.

Hinata looks at Daichi’s face; it is impassive and unreadable, but there is a sort of weariness that tugs at the corners of his Daichi’s vaguely puffy eyes and a slight furrowing of his brows that betrays his otherwise staid countenance.

‘You did well today, Hinata.’ Daichi’s voice comes out slightly hoarse, but it is steadfast and warm, as always. ‘Remember to rest well when you get home today.’

‘Thanks,’ is all Hinata manages before his voice cracks traitorously and his vision starts to blur again.

Daichi reaches his arms out and draws Hinata in for a tight hug, and then pulls back, hands still on Hinata’s shoulders.

For an instant Daichi’s features work themselves into something almost painful and vulnerable, but the moment vanishes as fast as it comes; Daichi gives a small, dogged smile, and squeezes Hinata’s shoulders tightly before letting his arm fall. Hinata almost reaches out and says, _you did well, too_ , but stops himself.

Daichi is the unyielding strength of mountains, a spine that stands ramrod straight in spite of all that is placed upon it. The realisation hits Hinata almost like a surprise, and he blinks in spite of himself— strength is not always a powerful spike or a well-timed block in a heated match. Hinata finds himself staggering his footsteps unwittingly, before stopping altogether, as Daichi continues to trudge forward. He looks at the broad expanse of Daichi’s shoulders, silhouetted against the evening sky, and burns the image of his captain’s back permanently into his mind.

 

 

**#2**

‘Karasuno’s setter is a first year? I thought they had that third year guy, that silver-haired one?’

‘They got Kageyama Tobio, the third year’s completely useless now.’ Two boys snort with laughter, the sound reverberating off the walls of the bathroom. ‘It’s pretty embarrassing, isn’t it? To be tossed aside for a _kouhai_.’

‘I heard they're ridiculously strong this year, though.'

'Damn, I hope we won't them for our next round.’

Hinata is about to open his mouth to defend his vice-captain when the shower stall in front of them slams open to reveal a seething Tanaka.

‘ _Take that back_ , you little dickheads,’ Tanaka says darkly, hands already curled into tight, trembling fists, and even Hinata is afraid because he’s never seen Tanaka this mad, not even when a guy had tried hitting on Shizumo three days ago and ended up hiding in the cleaner’s storage room for eight hours straight.

The two boys look like their lives are flashing before their very eyes; they throw alarmed glances at each other before hurriedly scuttling away. Sudden silence descends upon the otherwise empty bathroom.

‘They don’t know Suga,’ Hinata says finally, and grips tightly at the strap of his bag.

If Daichi is the solid foundation onto which the team is built, then Suga is the gentle summer rain that falls onto their scorched, feverishly-hot skin. If Daichi’s back is the goal towards which everyone is hurtling, then Suga is the quiet but enduring presence enabling them every step of the way.

Suga might not be a genius like Kageyama, but he makes sure to know and understand his teammates perfectly, as befitting his role as a setter and their vice-captain. Hinata is always impressed because Suga has the knowledge of everyone at the back of his hand, even Hinata’s; he knows what Hinata’s favourite tossing position is, knows when Hinata is truly tired despite his repeated protests of _I’m fine, I said I’m really fine_ , and has no problem recalling Hinata’s order whenever they get Chinese takeout.

‘Fuckers don’t know _shit_ ,’ Tanaka replies vehemently, and slams the door shut behind them.

 

 

**#3**

 Hinata finds Asahi moping in the corner of a stairwell on the day of their graduation.

‘Asahi, we’ve been trying to find you, Suga wants a group photo,’ Hinata says, and stops abruptly because he sees the tears dripping down the other boy’s face. ‘I— I’m sorry—’

‘It’s okay,’ Asahi says thickly, and gives him a watery smile. ‘I’ll— I’ll just wash up and— and find the rest.’

They make their way to the bathroom wordlessly. Hinata waits patiently outside, and listens to the sound of water splashing against the sink. When Asahi eventually comes out five minutes later, he looks only slightly better— his face is dry, but his eyes are puffy, his nose is red and his wet hair is still clinging obstinately at the edges of his face.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ Asahi says, somewhat sheepishly. ‘Leaving all of this is just— just difficult. This is kind of— ah, what would your friend call this, _pathetic_.’

‘I don’t think this is pathetic at all,’ Hinata blurts out in spite of himself, and Asahi blinks in surprise at the outburst. ‘I mean, it just means that— that you cared a lot for— for all of this—’

‘Right.’ Asahi’s features work their way into a brave smile, and he reaches out and ruffles Hinata’s hair. ‘Thanks, Hinata.’

 

‘I’m going to be Karasuno’s ace one day,’ Hinata tells Kageyama seriously when they meet up with the rest later, not entirely sure as to why he’s saying this, of all things, of all times, but it feels right somehow.

Kageyama’s gaze flickers from Asahi to Hinata, and he gives the back of Hinata’s head a gentle shove. ‘Then you have big shoes to fill, you dumbass.’

 

 

**#4**

There is no one in the world with a sound mind and a modicum of knowledge regarding volleyball who wouldn’t call Nishinoya Yuu a genius. This is amongst the first things Hinata realises about Nishinoya, along with the other boy’s excessive boisterous cheer, alarming foolhardiness, explosive hairstyle, and impressive (lack of) height.

Nishinoya is a genius; this is equal parts unsurprising and undisputable. And yet—

‘The can’s finished _already_?’ Ennoshita asks after practice one day, right hand holding onto a can of empty Salonpas, frowning as he tries to shake the life out of it.

Hinata looks at the can. ‘Didn’t Yachi just buy that last week?’

‘Sorry! I used it up during morning practice today,’ Nishinoya says, hair flat and ungelled, still damp from the shower. He flashes an apologetic, half-embarrassed grin at Ennoshita before returning to haphazardly stuffing soiled practice attire into his backpack.

‘The can was half full yesterday,’ Ennoshita shoots back. ‘You know you’re supposed to spray it, not drink it, right. Oh, _my god_ , did you actually _drink_ it?’

‘Do I look like an idiot to you!’ Nishinoya bristles with indignance, and Hinata can’t help but laugh.

Nishinoya is a genius, and yet. The bruises lining his arm— shades of mottled green and patches of bright, angry magenta— should count for something. The knee guards on his knees, callouses on his palms, the plasters pasted clumsily all over his body— Hinata knows that they count for _something_.

Before Nishinoya Yuu is a prodigious genius he is a boy with bruised arms and gritted teeth; he is a distinct, unmistakable presence on the courts, loud and present in a way that has nothing to do with the bright orange of his shirt. He is incandescent warmth and seemingly unlimited energy, all wrapped up neatly in a small body that can barely contain itself. He is a hoarse voice at the end of every training session, screaming ‘ _one more time_ ’.

Before and above all of that, however, Nishinoya is Hinata’s senpai, a valuable teammate, and Karasuno’s very own Guardian Deity. Sometimes Hinata thinks that that alone is more than enough. 

 

 

**#5**

The flying ball barely misses Hinata by a hair; it leaves a gust of cold wind whipping across his right cheek, buzzing sound in its wake making Hinata wince. The ball lands onto the floor with a loud, resonating thud; it should’ve been an easy receive for Nishinoya, but the other boy must’ve been too horrified to react in time.

‘Are you okay?’ Kageyama is by his side before he knows it, Ennoshita and Tanaka follow closely behind. ‘That ball—’

‘That ball was _aimed for his face_ ,’ Tanaka screams. ‘I saw it from where I was standing. _Fuckers—_ they were totally— they _totally_ wanted to hit Hinata-’

(They did, and Hinata knows it because he saw it too, and the impact would’ve completely concussed him, but still, he’s only a _kouhai_ and Tanaka is—)

‘Tanaka, calm down,’ Ennoshita says, alarmed, but it’s too late. Tanaka’s already at the other side of the court which spells _trouble_ , bright and clear as day, because the net is usually the only reason Tanaka isn’t tearing at his opponents like a beast possessed.

‘Tanaka, it’s okay,’ Hinata begins, but it doesn’t matter then because Tanaka’s right fist comes into contact with the other boy’s jaw.

 

‘I’m— I’m sorry,’ Hinata says by way of apology later, after the match has been called off, angry parents accounted to, and Tanaka declared unfit for training for three weeks.

‘What?’ Tanaka says. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘The ban,’ Hinata begins, and swallows thickly, because he _knows_ what this means for Tanaka, understands the incredible weight of the consequences.

Tanaka looks down at his hands, slowly curls it into a tight fist. ‘I’d still do it if you gave me a choice now.’

Hinata doesn’t doubt it. Tanaka is the sort of fierce, unyielding loyalty that will follow you to the ends of the world. He almost opens his mouth to say sorry again, but stops himself because— to apologise to that sort of loyalty would almost be disrespectful.

‘At least— at least let me buy you dinner today,’ Hinata says, and Tanaka smiles for the first time that afternoon.

 

 

**#6**

It all starts when Nishinoya and Tanaka pull Hinata aside after training one day.

‘We’re going to need you for a really important mission,’ Tanaka tells Hinata conspiratorially, and Hinata nods furiously and all but preens because hey, it’s not everyday your senpais include you in their top-secret mission.

‘You know that girl by the name of Yuki Hamasaki, in class 4, Ennoshita’s class?’

Hinata nods his head again.

‘It’s really, really important that you get her number,’ Nishinoya says, with complete and utter seriousness. ‘We would go, but we’re kind of banned from entering their class ever again, you see.’

Hinata thinks that he really doesn’t need to know why. He doesn’t say no, though, because he _obviously_ can’t possibly turn down his beloved senpais. So he bites back his apprehension, beams a little too widely and says, ‘count on me!’

 

‘C-could I please have y-your number, Y-yumi Ha-Hanawaki?’

Everyone freezes for a moment, before the entire class bursts into rancorous laughter. Oh god, Hinata wants to curl up and _die_.

‘Who does this freshman _think_ he is,’ a particularly nasty looking second-year says as he slides forward and hops down from his desk, cracking his knuckles with deliberate slowness.

‘Hey kid, you’re not getting Yuki’s number, but I hope you got the number to the hospital ready,’ another boy says to general laughter. Hinata gulps and shuffles two steps backwards. ‘I’m sorry—’

‘Everybody, please.’

Hinata turns around and thinks he’s never been so pleased to see Ennoshita his whole life. Ennoshita has a surprisingly charming smile on his face, but Hinata thinks that there is something about the way his mouth is twitching that doesn’t bode well. ‘I apologise on behalf on my junior. I think this is some sort of bad misunderstanding.’

‘Misunderstanding, my foot,’ the other boy says, but something about the way Ennoshita is still smiling must be unsettling him, too, because he lets them pass.

‘Did Tanaka and Nishinoya put you up to this,’ Ennoshita asks when Hinata has been escorted out successfully from the classroom safely.

‘Um,’ Hinata says, and that is all Ennoshita needs because he smiles at Hinata knowingly before sending him away and warning him not to step foot into his classroom again, _ever_.

 

‘We’re— we’re so sorry,’ Tanaka says to Hinata after training that day, looking uncharacteristically gloomy and subdued.

‘We’ll never tell you to do that kind of thing again,’ Nishinoya says, his apology accompanied by an uncharacteristic wilting look. Even his hair looks particularly muted, like it’s missing a good three inches.

‘That— that’s okay!’ Hinata says, alarmed. ‘You don’t— you don’t have to apologise!’

Ennoshita chooses this precise moment to float by, an oasis of peace and serenity.

‘Oh, but they do,’ he says, looming over the two other boys, eyes flashing dangerously. ‘Right?’

Tanaka and Nishinoya start nodding like their lives depend on it.

 

 

 **#7, #8**  

It’s just Hinata’s dumb rotten luck that he should come down with a bad flu right when their team is scheduled to play a friendly against Nekoma. Hinata puts up an impressive, protracted fight, but eventually Kageyama decides that enough is enough and manually hauls Hinata to the benches because apparently ‘ _we don’t need someone who looks and sounds like he is coughing up his right lung once every three seconds_.' 

‘I _hate_ sitting out on the bench,’ Hinata says as the referee blows the whistle and the game starts, trying to sound as aggrieved and bitter as possible, a feat made rather difficult by his clattering teeth. As if his day cannot get any worse, Hinata turns and sees Kinoshita and Narita looking at him.

Oh, god. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Hinata says, horrified.

The edges of Narita’s mouth is tugs up into a half-grin. ‘No worries, dude.’

Kinoshita laughs and looks like he is about to say something else, but then Yamaguchi manages a perfect serve and Kinoshita all but leaps right out of the benches and screams, ‘GO GET THEM!! YAMAGUCHI!!’

Hinata blinks in surprise because he isn’t used to seeing this level of enthusiasm on Kinoshita; actually, he isn’t used to seeing this level of enthusiasm on anyone except Nishinoya and Tanaka.

‘GREAT JOB, NOYA!!!’ Narita’s joining in now, after Nishinoya dives and saves a particularly impossible ball. Hinata finally decides that he isn’t about to be outdone and starts joining in the cheering match, but fails abjectly because his voice is hoarse and he can’t really manage anything but a few feeble croaks. Narita and Kinoshita turn to him simultaneously and promptly start laughing.

‘I’m trying,’ Hinata huffs.

Narita laughs and thumps him on the back. ‘We know, little guy.’

They spend the entire match screaming and throwing their fists into the air. It doesn’t matter whether they are on the courts or off them, because every single goal, every beautifully executed toss, every narrowly caught receive is their triumph, too.

 

 

 **#11**  

It’s five thirty a.m. in the morning and ninety percent of the world is still fast asleep, but Hinata feels fairly awake as he pushes his bike on the dirt path leading to school. The fact that the lights are turned on in the gymnasium doesn’t surprise him; Kageyama must’ve beaten him in their unsaid I-can-start-training-earlier-than- _you_ competition for the day.

‘Yo, Kageyama,’ Hinata says, only to stop dead in his tracks as he sees blonde hair and darkly framed spectacles, a truly rare sight in the Karasuno gymnasium at five thirty a.m.

In front of him, the figure freezes for a split second; for a moment, Hinata thinks that Tsukishima might actually run away, but then the other boy quickly slackens his pose and turns to regard Hinata with his usual air of cool indifference. ‘Hey.’

‘I didn’t know you were training early today,’ Hinata enthuses, and Tsukishima winces in a way that says _I do not need your boundless excitement in this ungodly hour of the morning_. Hinata pays no heed to his discomfort, though. ‘You can practice with me!’

‘No thanks,’ Tsukishima says with infuriating disinterest, and goes back to hurling the ball at the wall. It doesn’t bounce back to him, though, because Hinata leaps out and catches it.

‘Please?’ Hinata begs, and all but shoves his face into Tsukishima’s. ‘Just for thirty minutes? Till Kageyama comes?’

It takes a while but Tsukishima eventually agrees, if only to ‘ _just shut your stupid mouth up_ ’. Kageyama reaches the gymnasium thirty minutes later and promptly joins in, and before they know it the first bell of the day starts to ring shrilly in the air.

‘Let’s do this again tomorrow,’ Hinata tells Tsukishima as they are clearing up.

‘Maybe,’ Tsukishima says simply, and Hinata _glows_ because everyone knows that that is a resounding yes in Tsukishima-speak.

 

 

**#12**

‘Karube would make a good spiker,’ Yamaguchi says, and taps the end of his pencil against his chin thoughtfully. ‘Although Fujiwara could probably rise up to the challenge, too. What do you think?’

Hinata nods enthusiastically. ‘Yeah, Fujiwara’s _good_! Have you seen him play the other day? We were losing 6-10, and then Karube got injured and we had to swap him out, and everyone thought Fujiwara was going to shit his pants but he was like baaaam, and vrroom, and kapew, and he only scored once but it was enough to reverse the momentum. It totally saved our asses.’

Yamaguchi makes a few scribbles on the piece of paper on the table, then turns and regards Hinata with a funny expression on his face, like he’s trying to decide between being bemused and amused and finally settling on something in between. ‘Shouyou, you really mustn’t be like this in front of the juniors.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Hinata pulls a slight face. ‘If a captain is a straight guy, his vice gets to balance it out somehow.’ He pauses and smiles. ‘Like how Ennoshita and Tanaka used to be.’

‘Tanaka mellowed out towards the end,’ Yamaguchi observes. ‘And Daichi and Suga were both pretty put together to begin with. So— Fujiwara?’

‘Or Hidaka. Or Naito,’ Hinata says, and then stops and frowns. ‘Man, this is hard. Now I know why Ukai always looks so stressed whenever we talk about team allocation.’ Their coach had taken a month’s leave to deal with ‘personal matters at home’, and had instructed Yamaguchi and Hinata to take over in his absence. Hinata had been eager to take up the challenge, but things are proving to be much harder than he’d expected.

Yamaguchi chews at his pencil thoughtfully. ‘Actually— how about Kondo?’

Hinata regards Yamaguchi with surprise. ‘Huh? Kondo? You mean that quiet kid with the spectacles?’

‘Yeah, him,’ Yamaguchi says, tilting his chair back. ‘I saw him block the other day, he was pretty decent.’ Hinata still looks unconvinced, though, so Yamaguchi continues, ‘This is just a friendly match, right? Wouldn’t do harm if we put him under pressure. I think he just needs the right kind of stimuli to grow.’

‘Oh,’ Hinata says slowly, as if realising something. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Yamaguchi regards him with an amused half-grin. ‘What is it?’

 ‘He sounds— he sounds a lot like how you used to be, Tadashi.’

Yamaguchi laughs and turns away. ‘I suppose— yes, yes he does.’

‘Then,’ Hinata says, scribbling furiously at the paper, ‘let’s pick him.’

 

 

**#9, #10**

‘So,’ Hinata says, after they’d cleared up the court and cleaned themselves up. The watch on his wrist reads 12:05 a.m., but the time means nothing to Hinata. ‘Tomorrow, huh.'

Kageyama plops down next to him silently, all long, lean limbs and easy leonine grace. In the dim light Hinata can barely make out the dampness of Kageyama’s hair, still wet from the shower, dark strands sticking onto his forehead in small curls. ‘Yeah, tomorrow.’

The night is mercifully cool. They’ve turned off the lights in the gymnasium; their only sources of illumination come from the shafts of moonlight working their way through the windows, and the streetlamps glowing a faint neon orange at the entrance.

‘Water,’ Hinata says simply, voice reverberating off the walls of the empty gymnasium. Kageyama tosses a bottle of pocari sweat to him wordlessly, their movements surprisingly coordinated for the darkness of their surroundings, their connection almost visceral.

Hinata is unsure as to when their relationship went from basing itself on ‘I want to fight to the death against you’ to ‘I want to fight to the death _with_ you’. At some point their mutual antagonism had melted slowly away and they’d eased themselves into an easy camaraderie, but Hinata thinks that what they have now merits a different word altogether because ‘camaraderie’ doesn’t quite just cut it anymore. 

Hinata tips his head backwards and feels his back come into contact with the coolness of polished wood. Next to him, Kageyama grabs the half-finished bottle, brings it to his lips, and chugs down the remaining of the salty-sweet fluid. They stay in a companionable silence until—

 _It_ comes without warning: for a moment Hinata’s heart seizes up almost unendurably, realisation hitting him like a tonne of bricks as he thinks with startling clarity, _we will never be here again_.

‘Kageyama,’ he says, willing his voice not to crack, and tugs at the other boy’s shirt. ‘I’m— I’m scared.’

Hinata is terrified; it has nothing to do with the result of their final deciding match the next day, although that is undoubtedly important. No, Hinata is terrified because: tomorrow will be the last time he will wear the black Karasuno shirt into a proper game, number 10 emblazoned proudly across his back. Hinata is terrified because: he might never get used to not having Kageyama’s presence in his close proximity, a steady, unyielding flame blazing at his periphery.

The days following tomorrow stretch out ahead of him like a murky, uncompromising unknown. He’ll wake up everyday, bypass the gymnasium, go straight to classes, wait for school to end, and then— _and then what?_

‘You don’t have to be.’ Kageyama presses the warmth of his palm against the coolness of Hinata’s fingers with a sort of tenderness that makes him want to cry. ‘I’ll be there.’

‘No, I mean, after tomorrow—’ Hinata says, trying to explain himself, but Kageyama cuts him short.

‘I _know_ what you mean. I’ll _still_ be there, dumbass.’

Hinata looks up at Kageyama and thinks, when was the first time he’d grabbed Hinata by the shoulders and told him, ‘as long as I’m here, you are invincible,’ with a sort of certainty that’d startled them both? When was the first time he’d felt the exhilaration of a cleanly spiked ball contacting wooden floor with a satisfying, resonating _thump_? When was the first time he’d turned to Kageyama after a successful combination, only to see his surprise reflected on the other boy’s face, mingled with a ‘I told you so’? God, it’s been so long.

Hinata props himself back up.

‘Kageyama.’ Inhale, exhale. ‘I’m glad- I’m glad we got to do this together.’ Inhale, exhale. ‘All this time.’

Kageyama’s hand runs across the sharp of Hinata’s chin, tilts his face up, and brings Hinata’s lips to meet his.

 _Tomorrow_ , Hinata thinks, when they pull apart eventually, _we will be the sky_.

**Author's Note:**

> pairings are lovely, but listen to this: #WRITEMOREGENFICS2K15
> 
> this is woefully unbeta-ed, and i'll try to re-edit it soon, so please do tell me if you spot any typos/ errors
> 
> (for those of you who have read my pp works, yes, i got this idea from my akane-centric genfic. plagiarising yourself is totally a ~~narcissistic~~ thing, right)


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